


Shelter from the Storm

by OceanTheSoulRebel



Series: Adaar's Adoration - DAI Ficlets [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: I just wanted to write porn dammit, Multi, NSFW, Smut, The start of something beautiful, feelings maybe, tags updated as the fic is updated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-05 04:35:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13380303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OceanTheSoulRebel/pseuds/OceanTheSoulRebel
Summary: The fledgling Inquisition has just outrun the darkspawn Corypheus after the total loss of Haven and is settling into Skyhold keep. Tensions abound and secrets are held and discovered, threatening to distract them from their greater purpose. The Inquisition has to keep it together... somehow.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trade agreements must be cemented with a neighboring noble family and Ambassador Josephine already wants to tear her hair out. Between the Lady's insistence of her presence at an upcoming ball to finalize their potential relationship, the lamentable state of her wardrobe after settling into Skyhold, and navigating her relationships with their prospective allies across the land, Josephine has a lot on her plate - business as usual for the skilled but overworked Ambassador.
> 
> Business changes when they lose both the Inquisitor and the Seeker in what had become a routine operation, sealing rifts and chasing down rogue Templars moving across Ferelden. With two of their heavy hitters missing in action, the home team is under a lot of pressure - and a lot of stress. Tensions run high in the war room as they balance the needs of their fledgling Inquisition and their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:  
> CW: Non-con kiss discussed in the first scene, the actual encounter not shown on-screen. Also, NSFW chapter.
> 
> Story takes place after the evacuation of Haven but not during any particular story quest. I changed the layout of Skyhold's keep slightly, don't hate me. I needed it to make the story work a little better. 
> 
> Feelings are hard, war is hard, relocation is hard... life is fucking hard, and they're all navigating the best that they can. This may potentially grow to be a larger story with more fleshed out relationships, but here's a snippet.This isn't exactly the first story in this series/universe, but this is the first one I've posted that focuses on Herah the Qunari. Other similar works with her as the Herald/Inquisitor will be found in this series. Stories featuring other Inquisitors will be found in other DAI-related series groupings.

Josephine stared at the map, a large piece of canvas-like paper painted delicately with inks to represent the vast regions and nations of Thedas. Somewhere in these squiggles, among the small wooden pieces marking current operations and movements - somewhere in here there were answers, paths and routes that would make it easier to move supplies into their secluded foothold in the mountains.

From edge to edge the map was littered with markers - tents for the smaller operating camps, miniature soldiers for current deployment camps, even small chests marking requisition locations for the quartermaster. Roughly carven castles - or something resembling them, if one squinted and tilted their head as they observed the piece - marked capital cities and seats of power, some even flying the standards of the respective ruling family, and smaller houses signified villages and outer cities. She plucked a castle from the map, rubbing it worriedly between her fingers as she stared at the surrounding pieces.

“I carved that one myself, you know.”

She jumped at the sudden intrusion, the wooden marker falling from her hand. Josephine groaned. Just her luck, the piece had jostled neighboring markers where it fell. “How long have you been lurking, Commander? I didn’t hear you come in.”

A tall man strode into the chamber, his graceful steps eating the distance between them until he stood across the table from her. He examined the map and carefully adjusted the pieces back to their rightful place, or near enough to it. His eyes kept to the tableau upon the map. “Not long. I… didn’t think I’d find you here.”

A hot flush crept over Josephine’s skin at the hesitation in his voice, knowing too well he remembered their last meeting in the war room from weeks ago. Her hand ached with a phantom sting, recalling the hard slap she had laid angrily across his cheek. “What happened is in the past,” she replied icily. Josephine hoped they hurt to hear as much as they did to say; even her accent, her reminder of the warmth and beauty of her native Antiva, could not soften them as they fell from her lips. Her hands clenched at her side, nails digging into her palms, and she turned to leave.

“Josie, please -”

“No - it’s ‘Ambassador _,’_ or even ‘my lady,’ if you’d rather _._ ” _Damn this room for being so large,_ she thought to herself. _There could never be a hasty yet dignified exit from here._

“Ambassador,” he corrected himself. She could hear him behind her, rushing from around the table, his footsteps tapping loudly against the stone floor. “Ambassador, please…” Josephine kept her eyes forward as she walked quickly to the door, knowing she would not reach it before he reached her.

His rough hand grabbed her shoulder. She jerked away from him but miscalculated, instead landing with her back against the door and him quickly encroaching into her personal space. “If you had any honor you would allow me to leave, _Commander_ ,” she spat, her heart stuttering in her chest as he grimaced at her words.

“It’s my honor that commands me to apologize, _Ambassador!_ ” he replied heatedly. She flinched as his hand slapped against the stone beside her head and narrowed her gaze at him.

“Is it, then? Is it your honor that dictates that you should harass your Ambassador as she attempts to negotiate for the good of our people? Or to hold her against the door, alone in a room together, two weeks after taking outrageous liberty on her person? Is this your ‘honor’?” She pushed against the wall of his chest and watched as he stumbled backwards, putting a few steps between them. “Truly, it is impeccable.”

He had the good grace to look ashamed as he rubbed his palms over his face. “My lady, grand Ambassador, I…” He trailed off, shaking his head before sinking to a knee, a move that caught her by surprise. She’d only ever seen him kneel to the Most Holy when the Divine had cause to scold him.

“I must apologize for my behavior a few weeks ago. And for my behavior now,” he added. The scabbard of his sword shifted against the stone floor as he adjusted his position. “It was never my intent to scare you, to… to harass you, as you’ve rightly said. You are highly qualified in what you do, and I have no right nor reason to make you feel undervalued or less than a part of this team.”

Silence filled the chamber, stretching the moments between heartbeats unbearably long. “What did you mean by it?” she asked quietly, warily.

Cullen looked up at her, brow furrowed with surprise before he steeled himself again. “‘What did I mean’ by what?”

“You kissed me. Hard.”

“And you slapped me for it. I deserved that.”

“You did.” They quietly regarded each other. “You know of my arrangement with the Inquisitor.”

He sighed. “I do. Or, well, I do now. I suspected it, but didn’t know what to make of it.”

Josephine cocked her brow. “Because she is a woman?”

“Because she’s a Qunari. And a _mage_ , at that!” He wobbled slightly from his position on the floor with the strength of his outburst. “But she is, she’s… Herah is very capable woman. Strong and determined, proud yet humble. She’s absolutely dazzling. Powerful, intelligent, measured. Beautiful.” He blushed at the last word, the coloring setting off the thin scar over his cheek. “ I can see why you would…”

She relaxed slightly against the heavy wooden door of the war room, her narrowed eyes never leaving his face. “But that doesn’t explain things here between us.”

Cullen seemed to shrink under her gaze, a feat for the Commander. “No, it doesn’t,” he sighed, looking away. “I was… ‘jealous’ might be a good word for it. And angry. And… even scared.” He nodded slightly. “I’m ashamed at it all. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did, and I must apologize for it.”

“You kissed me because you’re jealous of Herah?”

“I kissed you because... “ He stopped himself, clenching his jaw. “It was a moment of weakness. Of… of aggression, and badly misplaced emotions. It never should have happened, and I am sorry for it.” He met her gaze. “I truly am, Ambassador. I regret my actions. I do not ask for your forgiveness, or for anything from you, but I must apologize for what I did to you.”

Cullen quietly stood from his kneeled position, brushing the dust from his long legs. “I should leave you to your work. Good day, Ambassador.” Without another word he turned and strode away, loose pages fluttering from the war table as he passed it. Josephine watched his back as he exited toward the castle battlements, slamming the heavy door shut against the bright morning sunlight outside.

Moments passed as she stood against the door, stunned and confused. Her heart raced as she turned, opening the door to flee down the hallway, the table and her initial quest forgotten.

 

* * *

 

 

A knock resounded at her office door, cutting short her irate rant on the state of her wardrobe. She tossed the offending ruffled dress on her bed and strode through the antechamber that served as her office.

“You are interrupting some very important business, and - oh, it’s you! I didn’t expect to see you. Please, come in.” Josephine opened the door to allow the woman to sweep past her, clad in her usual blue cloak. She turned around, observing the newly decorated room in the swiftly dying daylight

“You always have such good taste, Josie,” Leliana remarked, nodding in appreciation. “I stopped by to wish you well on your trip and to give you an update on the situation.”

Josephine dropped into her chair, pulling out a blank page from her stationary box. Her hand dipped a short quill in a nearby inkwell automatically, everything going through autopilot. It was her job, after all, and she was good at it. Ink flowed across the page in neat, straight lines as Leliana spoke, paraphrasing the reports the spymaster’s scouts had sent in, recording names and places for further research, and quietly committing to memory the lives lost in the recent operations. Their families would receive final letters from the spymaster but she was the one who had to find their home villages first.

“We have lost contact with the Inquisitor.”

The pen wobbled along its path before stopping, leaving an ugly trail of ink along the cream colored page. She stared blankly at the offending lettering. “You what?”

Leliana quietly sat on the edge of the large desk. “It was an operation gone wrong. Herah and her team went out as planned to close local rifts and pursue suspected rogue Templars, but did not come back. It’s understood that they were likely separated from the forward camp during a massive storm. We do not know much more than that at the moment. I’m sorry, my friend.”

Josephine met her gaze, fury burning in her face. “Why tell me this now, of all times? I’m leaving to secure some very important trade agreements and you tell me _this?_ Why not kick my dog at the same time, too?”

Leliana shook her head, a rueful smile twisting her lips. “That might have been the kinder action, had you a dog.” She looked away. “I know how important she is to you, and to all of us. I wanted you to hear it first.”

“I…” Tears pricked at her eyes. “You’re right. Thank you, Leliana. You have always been a good and honest friend. I appreciate your telling me this.”

“Wish I had better news for you, especially with your trip south in the coming weeks.” The spymaster laid her hand on the ambassador’s shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry, again. You’ll have news as soon as I do, I promise.”

She stood from her perch on the desk, reaching into a pocket. “I almost forgot. This is a missive addressed to you, found in the war room. I figured you might not appreciate it being left about.” Leliana placed the folded sheets of paper on the desk where she had sat.

“Thank you,” Josephine replied, quickly clearing her throat to hide the shakiness in her voice. She watched Leliana pad out of her suite, the spy’s soft boots hardly making a noise against the floor. The door closed firmly behind her guest and once again shut out the world, granting her privacy to quietly sob.

 

* * *

 

The chests were packed and ready a day in advance, in her usual fashion. Despite the news of the potential loss of both the Inquisitor and Seeker Pentaghast, the operations at Skyhold continued. Spymaster Leliana kept to her scouts and spies, Commander Cullen to his troops, and Ambassador Josephine to her letters. When she wasn’t at her desk she was in the war room, pacing and staring the table just as she did now.

“Where are you, Adaar?” she muttered to herself. Her eyes focused on the Inquisitor’s personal totem, a simple pyramid adorned with a green sunburst depicting the Breach mark that resided in Herah’s hand. It stood surrounded by Seeker Pentaghast’s sword totem and those of the troops who had accompanied her at the site of the local operating camp, their last confirmed location. Her hands clenched upon the smooth surface of the map. “I swear to the Maker, if Cassandra’s hunch has killed you all, I’ll find a Nevarran death mage, raise the team, and… and have her flogged!”

A conspicuous cough from the far side of the room caught her attention and her gaze jumped to the intruder. “Commander,” she said calmly, her ire swiftly tempered by embarrassment at his witnessing her outburst.

“That was rather out of character, lady Ambassador.” He closed the door behind him but did not come further. “Would you prefer me to come back later?”

Josephine considered driving him from the room, leaving her to fruitlessly search for answers into the long hours of the night alone. “No,” she said instead, eyeing his gaunt face as he moved further into the firelight. “You look… unwell.”

Cullen barked a rough laugh. “Far from my usual fresh faced look, I’m sure.” His hand rubbed over his face, bringing color to his cheeks. “I’ve not been sleeping well,” he admitted, eyeing the table. “I keep looking here for answers and can’t find any. I wish these tokens were as talkative as their namesakes.”

“As do I.” Josephine shook her head in frustration. “I’ve stared at this table I don’t know how many times this week. How is it that we have some of the best scouts in the Empire and we still can’t track them?”

The commander sighed and shrugged off his heavy cloak, tossing it onto a nearby chair. “The only reasonable explanation I can think of is that they have holed up in a cave somewhere, possibly injured. Possibly carted off by a dragon somewhere - Cassandra’s armor looks pretty shiny after she’s buffed out the gouges, you know.”

Josephine couldn’t help but laugh at his absurd notion. “Yes, a wonderful addition to a dragon’s hoard - a dragon hunter! Imagine their mutual shock.”

“Wouldn’t that make for an interesting quest? ‘Operation: Homeward Bound,’ I’d call it.”

“Or ‘What Glitters is not Gold,’” Josephine countered with a smile. “Your operations always have some ridiculous name - like that in a book, or some game of pretend.”

He chuckled. “So I have a romantic’s heart, you’ve found me out, Ambassador. I like everything descriptive, neat and tidy.” He studied the map again, his smile fading as he considered the tokens. “Their operating camp was here,” he murmured, pointing to a tent marker. Cullen walked his fingers slowly along the parchment, meandering around inked icons depicting mountain ranges and vast forests. “I have maps!” he exclaimed after a long moment of contemplation, slamming his fist excitedly against the table. “The camp’s commanding officer has just returned my maps of the area. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of this before.”

Josephine watched as he strode to a shelf, examining the titles of rolled parchments before two scrolled papers to another nearby table. Cullen carefully set aside the books and melted candles that littered the surface and unrolled his chosen maps, thoughtfully layering them to present a larger picture. Intrigued, she followed him. “What’s this, Commander?”

“If I know Cassandra, she would have tried to use as few resources as possible during their search. Rogue Templars are… well, Templars can be intimidating on a good day but when rogue? It’s a terrifying prospect, and not one she would risk a squad of troops on if she could help it. The Seeker would likely have convinced Inquisitor Adaar to go with just a few of them, not the full contingent assigned to the area, and perhaps from a smaller, temporary campsite nearer to the target. She would want to waste as little time as possible; you and I both know how Cassandra hates the slowness of a regiment on the march.” He quickly moved to the war table to take a small tent figuring, returning to place it on the local map. “Here’s the camp,” he murmured again, his fingers following unseen paths through the mountains, spreading out over the parchment. “The scouts were able to reach four, five miles into the forest before the worst of the storm hit, so we can be confident they’re out further than that.”

“You think they are alone, just Herah and a handful of companions?” It wasn’t a tactic she liked but was often how Herah and Cassandra operated.

“It’s possible,” he said with a nod. “Not outside the realm of possibility. Cassandra wants to see justice served, and if the originating reports are right, there is much to serve. If the Templars are smart, they’ve chosen well defended ground for their camp - a narrow valley to hide in, perhaps, or up a nearby mountain to see the enemy before they can be seen. Somewhere not as likely to be discovered during a regigemt’s march.” Cullen traced lines over the paper as he talked. “Here. Or here, I suppose. These maps are old but mountains don’t move.”

Josephine stared down at the locations Cullen pointed at, her brow furrowed in concentration. The areas were miles apart and far from the operating camp, plenty of space for a small cadre to get lost in. “This is a ravine, and this a cave system. The ravine is just a big funnel but can be evacuated with enough notice, right?”

“Yes,” he replied thoughtfully. “It’s not ideal, but a scout on either edge of the ravine could potentially warn our rogues of impending danger.” He gestured to a nearby mountain range. “And this area is riddled with caves. If I were Cassandra, I would have bet on the caves first. It’s more likely to be used for shelter, provided the local wildlife didn’t think the same.”

A relieved groan escaped her lips and she threw her arms around the Commander. “There is hope after all,” she murmured into his shoulder. His arms wrapped around her like steel bands, hugging her tightly.

“We must have faith in them and the Maker.” His cheek pressed against the crown of her head, cushioned in her hair. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve repeated that in the week since we got word.”

She nodded slightly, his loose hair tickling her nose. “I’ve prayed more in the past few days than since we evacuated Haven,” she admitted.

“That’s dedication,” he remarked quietly.

“It’s something,” she agreed with a tired smile. They parted slightly, still embracing.

Cullen’s eyes flickered over her face, his gaze soft and focused. “I should leave,” he murmured huskily though he made no effort to do so, instead shifting his arms around her waist.

“Cullen.” Josephine knew she should pull away, if only for his sake. They still had much to talk about, and boundaries to discuss. She knew the breadth of her heart but he didn’t, and it wouldn’t be fair… but he was warm, and strong, and he was _here…_

Without a further thought Josephine pulled him to her and captured his mouth, her lips deftly smothering the surprised noise he gave. His arms pulled her tight against the hard planes of his body, his heat radiating through the rich fabrics of their clothes. Her hands burrowed into the hair at the nape of his neck and she deepened the kiss, swallowing his moan as she twined her tongue against his.

Cullen tore his mouth away to trail kisses down her jaw, sucking at the tender column of her neck. Her fingers clenched in his hair and pulled, earning a muffled groan and insistent bite at her throat. She felt his arm leave her back cold and a following fall of parchment before he turned her slightly, pressing her against the newly cleared top of the table.

“Tell me to stop, Ambassador,” he said shakily against the skin of her throat, punctuating his words with kisses. His hands roamed the plane of her back, her blood blazing with fire as his fingers wandered over her skin.

“It’s ‘Josephine,’” she moaned, feeling the hardening ridge of his erection press insistently against her belly. He groaned against her skin, his breath vibrating against her tender flesh.

“Josephine, Josephine, Josephine.” He murmured her name like a prayer, pressing wet, hot kisses down her shoulder to the crest of her bosom. Cullen’s large hands gripped her ass through the fabric of her skirt, kneading her flesh with his strong fingers.

She deftly hopped up on the table, Cullen following into the hollow of her spreading legs. His hands found the sensitive skin of her thighs and roamed upward, pushing the fabric of her petticoats away to play with the edges of her stockings. Josephine writhed under his ministrations, shifting to grind against his clothed groin, dragging a rumbling groan from his throat. WIth labored breaths he stilled.

“Adaar,” he whispered, his face flushed and jaw clenched. He met her eyes, shadowed in the firelight. “I don’t -”

She adjusted her hands in his hair, loosening the grip she had on his blond locks. “Cullen.” It took all her effort to speak rationally. “Adaar and I have an arrangement, and I promise on Andraste’s name that this is allowable. I am more than willing to explain the details of that arrangement but if you want this to stop, we will.” She peered into his face, biting her lip. _Oh Maker, please don’t let him stop._

With a ferocity that caught her by surprise he kissed her, his hands pulling her tight against his groin, the ridge of his cock jutting insistently at the front of his breeches. He pushed her back against the table, one hand delving between her thighs, fingertips ghosting through the nestled thatch of soft curls that lay there. _Cullen._ Josephine dragged a hand from his hair to cover his own, directing his fingertips to where she needed. A ragged cry tore from her lips as he brushed her clit with his thumb, sending lightning through her body as he played over her flesh. Cullen slid his fingers over the slick folds of her slit, pressing against her as he circled his thumb around her clit mercilessly.

Her blood boiled under his ministrations and her muscles spasmed as she came, clenching tightly at the sudden invasion of his fingers delving into her, one at first and swiftly accompanied by another thick digit. “Cullen!” She gasped as he filled her wet pussy, working against the spasms of her orgasm. Josephine arched her back against the table, hands gripping the far edge for leverage as she bucked against his hand.

Cullen withdrew, leaving her cold for but a moment. She heard the rustling of fabrics and a breathy swear before he bent over her, his thick cock freed from its fabric prison and sliding against her thighs. Josephine looked up to meet his gaze, naked lust evident in his face. One hand left the edge of the desk and dove into his hair to pull him close. “ _Yes,_ ” she moaned. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Slowly - agonizingly slowly - he entered her, his hands biting into her hips and lifting her against his body. Josephine cried out as he thrust into her, his fingers digging bruises into her hips. She wrapped her legs around his waist and angled her pelvis to rub her clit with his every thrust.

Cullen groaned through clenched teeth as she pulled his hair, his short nails digging into her skin as he ground into her. She bucked against him, urging him deeper, faster, needing more. She was so close, so close...

He slowed and stood, pulling her legs from his waist. Cullen’s strong hands lifted her limp legs to rest against his chest, one arm clamping tight around her thighs and the other hand on her hip. He realigned his cock against her pussy and entered her again, filling her in one smooth motion. She cried out at the sudden fullness, his thrusts hard and frantic, stroking deep inside her.

Stars leapt and played behind her eyelids as she squeezed her eyes shut. He was an assault on her senses, filling her in every way. His thrusts battered at her softness, each stroke brushing deeply inside her, hitting the sensitive cluster of nerves at the very core of her being. Josephine groaned a keeling cry as she climaxed again, tightening her slick muscles around his cock. His arm tightened around her thighs while she bucked against him wildly.

He stretched her, leaning forward slightly as his thrusts grew shorter, faster. Cullen tensed against her and she knew he was close. He gasped as she ground herself against his pelvis, his balls slapping indecently against the swell of her ass. Her pussy clenched around his cock and he gave a great cry, spilling inside her in stuttering thrusts.

“Josephine!”

Gradually he slowed, sliding his cock languidly inside her before shifting to lay over her, her legs splayed at his sides. Their chests heaved as they struggled to catch their breath.

Josephine smiled into his shoulder, the scent of sweat and musk permeating her senses. It was no small thrill, the possibility that someone of the council should find them like this, though she knew with the others gone, Leliana would be holed up in her rookery, watching for messages. A sharp pang of sadness shot through her at the thought.

Cullen stirred above her, his lips pressing soft kisses into her hair. With a contented sigh he stood, gently helping her from the table, his hands steadying her as she righted her clothes. Their eyes met for a moment and he reached for her, embracing her again.

“Your clothes,” she murmured into his chest.

“Ugh.” He stepped back and tied up his trousers again, pulling the belt taut around his hips. His hands lingered at the hem of his tunic, fingering the fabric edge.

She chuckled. “This is…”

“Awkward?”

Josephine smiled. “It doesn't have to be.” Her hand rose to rest upon his cheek and he snorted.

“I would like that, if that could be true.” He moved away, running a hand through his tousled, errant hair. “But Herah, and you, and the Inquisition, and…” Cullen sighed. She watched him gather his cloak, putting distance between them.

“Cullen, I meant what I said. I can help to put your mind at ease.” She smoothed her hands over her hair in an attempt to put it back to sorts, instead only dislodging already dangling hairpins. Josephine sighed in slight annoyance at the offending pins. “I can explain, if you’d like, or this can be…” She gestured to the room around them. “Or this can be it. It’s your decision, Cullen, you are in command.”

His jaw clenched in the firelight, a tic she’d grown to know too well in the heated arguments that often arose in this room. Josephine looked away in defeat. “I must attend to my duties, then. I’ll be gone for a week, but my assistant will be available, should you need any information from my office.” Her teeth worried her bruised lower lip for a moment before she caught herself. “Please send the Spymaster a summary of your search plans for the Inquisitor and her party. Good night, Commander.” Quietly she left the room, eyes stinging and body sore, boots tapping a quick rhythm against the castle floor.

Distractions were over and she had to get back to business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm always glad for feedback and comments.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen realizes that things are not quite as in his control as he'd like, and that what he does have isn't quite enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Talks about lyrium addiction, withdrawals, and Cullen's plans for if he's no longer fit to serve.

“Damn it, damn it, damn it!” He slammed his fist on the heavy wooden table just as the door closed, the golden ruffles of her dress now retreating through the hallway. “I am a fool and a bastard,” he muttered darkly, staring at the door. _How do I manage to get myself into these situations?_

Cullen sat at the table, his head in his hands. He could feel the familiar ache in his brow building, blood pounding behind his eyes. The room smelled like sex, a heady mix of sweat and musk and a hint of her light perfume. His eyes closed against the heat of Josephine’s body still burning his skin.

“I’m not usually like this,” he whispered to the table, covered in wooden markers and totems. His eyes fell on the Inquisitor’s totem, a pyramid with a carven sunburst - Herah’s adopted mark, thrust upon her in their time of need. He had whittled this one himself months ago, when he realized they needed her to lead them. When he had put his faith and his strength behind her, when he had allowed himself to become a greater tool for the Inquisition. For her. For them all.

His stomach clenched, tight as a fist in his belly. The pyramid stood tall like its namesake, strong and unflappable on the battlefield. He had seen the rage in her eyes at the battle of Haven, when Corypheus attacked their makeshift home. He had heard her scream, in pain, in anger, in an effort to move the heavens. She was beautiful in her rage.

And he was going to face that.

He groaned. “I’m a scoundrel,” he told the totem. “I have dishonored myself, and dishonored you both.” Josephine’s face flashed across his vision, her usually radiant features dimmed in a neutral mask just before she left. She was…

Disappointed?

He shook his head. It didn’t matter. He didn’t deserve her, didn’t deserve her explanation. Cullen stood abruptly from the table, pushing himself away from the map. Josephine was able to throw herself into her work. _I have my own duties to care for._ The totem stood in silent reproach at that thought. He eyed it warily, retrieving his cloak from the floor where he had dropped it. Bracing himself against the cold night he left for the battlements, slipping out the far door of the war room.

There was lots to do, and he had to make himself useful.

 

* * *

 

 

The day came and went, a barrage of stupid questions that wore on his gossamer-thin patience. His body ached with a lack of sleep and a bad eating schedule, the results of too many long nights and anxiety-ridden days. He watched the sun set from the battlements during his daily tour of the castle walls.

“ _Pain. Longing. An inconvenient, irresponsible love. Will things ever be right? Where do we go from here?_ You’re hurting, Commander,” a quiet, reedy voice called from behind him.

His hair set on edge and his hand immediately tensed, fingers instinctively reaching for his sword. “You keep sneaking up on me,” he grit out, willing himself to relax. “I told you, quit that.” He turned to face the speaker.

At first glance Cole looked like any of the young men he’d recruited during his time - tall, lanky, listless, and usually wearing a stupid hat. He didn’t know why Inquisitor Herah had allowed the spirit to remain at Skyhold or why the young man had come to them in the first place, alerting them of the incoming army that had set siege to Haven just barely a month ago. A nervous tremor shook through his body. _Calm, Cullen,_ he told himself. _Stay alert but calm._

“You look tense, you need help,” the man-spirit answered, his voice thin and low, a breath of wind over a grassy plain. Herah described it once as calming and confided she found it  soothing.

It always made him anxious.

“It’s the nature of the position. We must be vigilant, be ready.” His words were sharp and clipped. “We cannot be caught off guard again.”

“Vigilant,” Cole echoed. The spirit looked over the thick wall of the battlement toward the horizon, watching the sun descend behind the jagged Frostpeak Mountains.

Cullen tensed. “Can I help you with something, Cole?” He held his swordhand by the wrist, a hallback to his time with the Templars - at rest, his Commander called the stance. The firm grip steadied his nerves somewhat.

The spirit turned to face him, though didn’t look directly at him - more like around him, or through him. The Commander didn’t know which unnerved him more. “I want you to send me to Herah,” he said with his wispy voice. “Tell the nightingale to send me with her scouts and your troops. I can move faster and quieter than any of them can.”

Cullen blinked. “I’m sorry,” he said incredulously, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say more than five words in a sentence. You want to _what?_ ”

The younger man stepped forward quickly and Cullen instinctively leapt into a defensive stance, his hand halfway to his sword. The spirit stopped short, hardly breathing.

“I want to go out there. To help her.” There was a fierce heat to the man’s tone that Cullen had never had the displeasure to hear.

“Why?” he demanded.

The spirit shrugged and turned again to the sunset. “She listened to me. She looks for me. Herah… cares.”

Cullen considered the younger man for a moment and forced himself to take a deep breath, drawing himself to proper posture once more. He ran his hand down his face. “We don’t even know where she is,” he sighed wearily.

“You have a plan, though,” the spirit rejoined flatly. “I heard you discussing it with the nightingale.”

“The nightin - ah,” he interrupted himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Leliana. Yes, of course you heard that.” His jaw tensed, sending an ache running through his neck. “Is there anything you don’t hear around here?” he asked crossly.

“Not really.”

Silence fell over them, the gloaming descending on Skyhold like a blanket, muting the sharp noises of the early night. “How soon can you be ready, if I sent you?”

The spirit shrugged, a lanky, too-loose movement. “Now.”

Cullen quietly regarded him, this spirit in a young man’s body, coming from literally nowhere to join their growing melting pot of a party. “You would go anyway, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation in the answer.

He snorted. “That’s what I thought.”

They stood there in the growing cold of the evening, a considerably less-awkward silence between them. If he didn’t think about it too much Cullen could imagine the younger man as one of his own, eager to go out in the world and fight the bad guys, protect the good. But he wasn’t. It was important to remember that.

“You realize I’m not your Commander.”

“You’re _the_ Commander,” Cole insisted, turning to look at him. The younger man’s hat slid back to reveal his face, as unassuming as any man’s, but his eyes - those bright, wild, grey eyes…

“Go, then,” Cullen said, an eerie shudder running up his spine. He tore his gaze away from the younger man. “The search party will leave at seventh bell. Go with them, if you so choose. I can’t stop you.”

Cole nodded, his hat slipping back down to cover his face. “Thank you,” he whispered, disappearing into the night like a...

Like a spirit.

* * *

A loud, insistent knock resounded at his door, jolting him awake. _This better be important or so help me…_ He grimaced as he tore the blanket from his person, the cold air pricking at his skin despite his thin trousers. “Hold on,” he called gruffly to the intrusive visitor.

Leliana did not wait and instead threw open the door, her picks jutting from her fist in the ambient light of the early morning stars. “The knock was a courtesy,” she remarked dryly. “You’re sending the spirit with my team?”

“He asked.” Cullen reached for the candle at his bedside, lighting it with a nearby flint. The shadows threw the sharp angles of her face in stark relief, bringing to mind the bird that Cole had named her.

She stared at him. “That’s all? ‘He asked’ is all you have to say to that?”

Cullen threw up his hands in exasperation. “He’s convincing and unnerving, and I want him far away from me.”

“And you think -”

“He wants to help, Leliana,” he exclaimed incredulously. “I don’t mean to insult you by cutting you off but the.. man... had a point. He is quieter than your scouts and faster than my soldiers. Cole can hear… things. He can be an asset.”

“You just want him away from the castle.”

He yawned, rubbing his hand along his jaw thoughtfully. “I’d be lying if I said disagreed. He unnerves me, yes, but he made a strong case. I think he genuinely just wants to help.”

She tilted her head at him and narrowed her eyes, all the more birdlike in the candlelight. “He’s dangerous.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“Neither of us have much sway over him.”

“Again, you are correct.” He shifted on the mattress, gathering his sleep-addled thoughts. “He says Herah has treated him kindly, and I assume he wants to return that goodwill. As long as he’s on our team and pointed elsewhere, he can be however sneaky and weird as he’d like.”

Leliana groaned, running her hand down her face. “Fine. Fine, send him my way, that’s right. He’ll just be another one of my little birds, I suppose.”

“That’s the spirit, Seneschal. Now, if you’re finished…?”

He breathed a sigh of relief as she turned toward the door, her cloak swishing in the quiet night. She reached the door before stopping, looking over her shoulder at him.

“There’s a report on Josephine’s desk for you - a copy she had written out before she left for Castle Varlais this morning. Please retrieve it and join me in the afternoon, there is much to discuss.”

“Anything you’d like, my friend, as long as you let me sleep.” Leliana snorted at his exasperated proclamation and exited the room, shaking her head. “And lock that up behind you!” he called after her.

A short laugh bubbled from the battlements as she slammed the door, the sudden movement of air blowing out his candle.

 

* * *

Cullen had been putting it off all morning, the trip to Josephine’s office. Realistically he knew it was simple - so routine, really, a short errand before a rather innocuous, if likely a stressful meeting - but instead he spent extra time in the makeshift training yard, carefully watching his newest batch of recruits.

“They’re just children,” he groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. He knew the armed forces of the Chantry - the Templars and the even more terrifying Seekers - both started their training young but he wanted this to be different. He winced as the recruits stuck each other with their wooden swords, their form horrible, leaving themselves open to -

“Really, they’re not that young, Commander,” his lieutenant reminded him, intruding on his thoughts. “Most of them are some fourteen, fifteen years old. And some older than that!”

“It’s still the same. I can’t send children out on the field, Jaras.”

He couldn’t send children out to _die_.

They stood there for a moment watching the young men and women before him. He had been just a year younger when he first joined the Templars, after years of training on his own, running the nearby forests and sparring with his siblings and the neighboring children of Honnleath, learning the basics from the local Templars. His hand clenched in memory of the first moment he had held a sword, its weight heavy and sure in his grip.

 _“Being a Templar isn’t all fancy armor and helping people, Cullen,”_ a voice told him that day, quiet and reserved - Kasic, his first mentor and champion of his cause, a Templar knight who worked in his village Chantry. He had gifted Cullen his first sword. _“It’s hard decisions, too. Decisions that change you, and change the world. Our job is to help, as much as we can, but our mission is to protect.”_

Who was he protecting by sending children onto the blooded fields?  

His lieutenant coughed quietly. “You asked me to remind you at midday to attend your meeting, sir, and it’s been midday for some time now.”

Cullen shook his head, as if he could dash the maudlin thoughts away with such a simple action. “Make sure they work on their defensive forms. They’re terribly lucky that none of them know how to swing a sword,” he called over his shoulder as he turned away, wincing as a nearby recruit doubled over from a sudden abdomen attack. They were _damn_ lucky. “And remind them that they have shields!”

Jaras jogged to the middle of the yard, the man calling the commotion to a halt as he left.

 

* * *

“Ah, Commander Cullen, Sister Leliana said I should expect you!” A bright flutter of silks captured his vision as he strode into the open door of the ambassador’s office, nearly engulfing the wearer as she moved about the room. “I’m so glad you’re here - I must step away but didn’t want to miss you and keep you from your business.”

He gave a short bow of his head at her greeting, watching idly as the young woman quickly tidied up the office, rearranging the table that stood quietly across from the larger workspace that dominated the room. Josie had spent many long nights over the last month recreating her files with various members of the Inquisitor’s inner circle, making do with an improvised desk made of spare materials hauled from Haven or graciously received from their allies. It was a testament to her skills and the trade agreements she had brokered that her office, and the entire keep, could be so decorated and efficient so soon into adjusting to their new headquarters.

He smiled despite himself as the thought of her dedication warmed some deep, reverent part of him. “Thank you, Miss Nela, for waiting for me,” he replied, bringing his attention back to his errand. Cullen walked to the desk at Nela’s welcoming gesture, casually skimming the reports stacked neatly on Josephine’s desk. “I just need to pick up a report for Sister Leliana, she said it should be - ah, right here.” He retrieved the report in question, written in the ambassador’s thoughtful handwriting, and stilled, his gaze falling to the papers below it - pages of a letter written in his own hand, his penmanship decidedly more utilitarian than Josephine’s own.

 _This where the letter went._ He knew he hadn’t given this letter - a collection of his thoughts written to attempt to codify a lucid, respectful apology for his earlier transgressions  - to Josephine herself. His heart pounded painfully in his chest and he swiftly retrieved the creased pages under the papers in his hand, his smile forced but never leaving his face. Did he drop it at some point? Who had seen it before it reached Josephine’s desk?

 _Has she seen this?_ His thoughts raced wildly. _Of course she has, it’s just right here._ Cullen neatly squared the report in his nervous hands, willing himself not to run from the room in confused shame like some coward. He cleared his throat, moving away from the desk with a casual grace he didn’t feel. “Ah, Miss Nela, thank you again for waiting,” he said with a respectful nod. He may have been swifter than he should have been exiting the room, his cloak fluttering behind him as he stalked to the rookery.

Leliana was waiting for him, staring out one of the many arched windows of her new office. A table to her side held multiple curled parchments, missives and maps alike, and he dropped his own pile to the crowded surface, keeping his letter in hand.

“You knew about the letter,” he said neutrally, without preamble.

“Yes.”

He considered her carefully. They were not as close as their advisor colleagues, and while he respected her a great deal, both her religious zeal and her unorthodox career choices always qualified her as someone to watch closely. “Did you even need that report?”

“Not really, though it is good to have an additional copy.” She moved to the table, producing a map of the mountainous region of Ferelden she had just dispatched another scouting party toward, but her eyes did not take in more than its general shape. “Mostly I wanted to check on you.”

“On me?”

She nodded. “With the Chantry all but gone, we know the lyrium supply is getting scarce,” she said neutrally.

He clenched his jaw, even his unconscious shuffling stilling at her words. “It is,” he finally said after long moments of contemplation.

She didn’t look at him, instead regarding the map. “We - I - have contacts in Orzammar that can help us procure it. A new vein has been found, and with the unrest in the Chantry, neither Orzammar nor Chantry are on speaking terms. We can get it directly, for a price.”

Cullen stared at her. “We can bypass the…”

“You’ve been on edge since Haven. By my estimates, your last resupply was prior to your arrival at the Conclave, even before Cassandra brought you in, unless you somehow found more at the Chantry there. That was six months ago. If you’re not out already, you will be soon.”

A punch in the gut would have been kinder than her all-too-knowing words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he grit out from between clenched teeth, memories of recent dizzy spells and anxious outbursts fluttering through his mind’s eye.

“I know addiction,” Leliana replied sharply, casting a sidelong glance at the commander. “A Templar must take a dose daily, depending on how far into the addiction they are. And you, Cullen, have been a Templar for a long time.” She turned to face him, arms crossed over her chest. “How have you been keeping up with it all this time?”

“I - That’s none of your business,” he said stiffly.

“It is when it involves all of us. Cullen - Cullen, _look at me._ ” Her hand reached out to grip his shoulder, shaking him slightly. “I need to make sure that we are safe,” she said quietly. “I am Seneschal to the Inquisition, and in Herah’s absence I am her voice here. You are oathbound to help me keep us - to keep you - safe, even from yourself.”

Cullen cast his eyes away from her penetrating gaze. “I gave the last of my own lyrium to the Templar collective in Haven,” he admitted, the words sticking in his throat. “I couldn’t let myself get like -” he cut himself off, the familiar headache building in his temples. “I couldn’t let myself get like Meredith.” He took a deep, steadying breath. “I saw how far we had fallen - how far _I_ had fallen, and I promised I would not fall further.” His hands clenched and relaxed nervously at his sides, brimming with anxious energy. “I had started rationing myself shortly after joining the Inquisition, before I really made the decision to stop. I know how badly lyrium madness can get, and…” Cullen shook his head. “I was hoping to be able to ward off the worst of the effects.”

Leliana nodded, her face impassive. “You should have told us.”

He laughed, a harsh deprecating sound among the quiet commotion of the aerie. “And said what? ‘Oh, by the way, Inquisitor, I will soon turn into a ravening, witless mess,’ or perhaps ‘Ah, Seeker Cassandra, you’ll soon have to put me out of my misery, good day?’ Do either of those sound like pleasant conversations?” He shook off Leliana’s hand, putting some distance between them. “No. I’ve been seeing a healer - quietly,” he added, “and not one of yours. I had built a… contingency plan of sorts, in case I am unable to safely distance myself from the lyrium. I’ve seen too many good men lost to the madness, and I do not intend to be one of them,” he said soberly.

She nodded, worrying at her bottom lip. It was a tic he’d seen develop over the last month, since the evacuation of Haven. He steeled himself against whatever questions he knew she had. “I cannot, in good faith, call myself a Templar anymore. With the way of things now…” He shook his head. “The order has deserted anything good they once stood for. After seeing those _things_ breach our walls, I knew I have to be done. The Templars of old - of helping, of protecting - they are no more.”

Leliana was quiet for a moment. “You do not want me to secure the lyrium,” she said slowly, carefully. He hated hearing the caution in her voice, as if he were fragile. Or dangerous. 

“I… you must do what is best for the Inquisition, Seneschal. We have many Templars here who have broken from the Order, who need guidance. We have mages who are on the front line needing lyrium potions just as we - just as _they_ do,” he corrected himself. “I must protect myself from the madness it brings.”

“Cullen…”

“It must be done,” he insisted. “For the good of the Inquisition. I must fight it, or I will be lost. I can feel it.”

Leliana nodded, relaxing slightly but no less wary in her examination of him. “May I ask, what is your plan?”

He turned away, his gaze losing focus across the rookery. “I had been crafting weaker and weaker tinctures over the last few months before the attack, hoping to stave off the madness and break the addiction slowly, but the siege on Haven moved up the plan considerably. But if the madness comes, if I am no longer fit to serve…” Cullen cleared his throat, his mouth suddenly dry. “Lieutenant-Commander Jaras and I will lead a training exercise down the mountains. Terrain training. After some fashion, I will be discovered to be lost, and they will not find me in time.”

A quiet gasp sounded behind him and he squared his shoulders. “And what about us?” she asked quietly. “What of Josephine, or Herah, or any of us?”

“It must be done.” The words tore from his chest like shrapnel, jagged edges catching on the softness of his tongue. “We cannot sustain more significant losses. This is…” He searched for the phrase he had heard Herah use so often before, in times when the deck was stacked against them. “This is harm reduction, and the best plan I have. We will - you will heal.”

“Do you really believe that?”

He could easily see her face in his mind’s eye, a visage of quiet disapproval, just as so many in his life as of late. Visions of Herah, of Josephine, of even Cassandra danced before his eyes, their faces contorted in a moment of silent pain before moving on. “I have to,” he said somberly. “It’s all I have left.” He turned back to her, confirming the look on her face, her eyes glassy with stubborn tears, mouth set in a firm line. With a quick bow to the Seneschal he exited the high tower of the rookery, all but running along the keep’s wall to his own office.

His hands shook as he jostled the keys into the lock, though due to nerves or… something else… he could not be sure. He slammed the door shut behind him, locking out the daylight of the outside world, leaving himself in the dark with his own thoughts.

“They will heal,” he told himself stubbornly. “They’ll have to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I appreciate any notes or comments you may have!


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